


The Traveling House

by YuMe89



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demons, Future Fic, Ghost Allison Argent, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Scott get's to be a damsel, Stiles and Derek are his knights, Witches, mostly implied - Freeform, non-con, or something, spells, they're in college now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuMe89/pseuds/YuMe89
Summary: Scott get's held hostage by something and Derek and Stiles investigate.Some hidden desires get revealed, but the heroes save the day, or night, however one looks at it.-Derek didn't respond, he stood right there, looking in through the open front door. "Derek?", Stiles asked again, but he got no reaction. Frustrated, he sucker punched him in the shoulder, which got a reaction in form of a disoriented growl. He was blinking fast and then focusing on Stiles."What?", the Werewolf asked, facial expression puzzled like he just woke up."Yeah, no, get away from the damn door, Derek. Somethings fishy here.", Stiles replied, pulling Derek to the side and away.-
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	The Traveling House

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people!💕
> 
> Wrote this in a draft while lying waayy too long in the bathtub. It's kinda true, depressed people tend to take longer, but it really does feel comforting to be engulfed by warm/hot water.
> 
> Anyway, this is less depressing as one might think. And the non-con has a reason, because spells, but since they don't do anything they don't secretly already want to...it's hard to define in the tags. Better safe than sorry though.
> 
> Hope you enjoy 💖

All they had to go off on was Scott's strange voicemail to Derek and the texts Stiles had gotten. 

" _I'm in a house..._ " obviously didn't mean in either the McCall residence or the Stilinski's. They checked. Twice. 

The first message:" **something's goin on** " Stiles had gotten was half an hour before Scott left a message on Derek's voicemail. It was the only one for almost an hour.

The next one:" **they sound weird** " was just as informative, because, who were _they_. Stiles had been alert since the first one though and when he contacted the gang, only Derek replied that Scott had called him. Unfortunately he had been driving through town and couldn't take the call. Being the upstanding citizen that he apparently was now.

And really, when another half an hour he got Scott's short:" **I'm ok** " text he knew something was fishy. He didn't answer his phone and he ignored Stiles messages completely. 

Derek picked Stiles up, since Scott was now the proud owner of the Jeep and left Stiles with a serious lack of car, they decided to start at the Preserve. Maybe Scott had meant the Hale House and was currently standing in the debris or something. For whatever reason. 

"He should've just called me, I would've picked up at least." Stiles grumbled, sending Derek a dirty look.

"I was driving." Derek replied through gritted teeth.

"That never stopped you before." Stiles said loftily, knowing exactly how to push Derek's buttons. He'd missed that, College was kind of a lot about education and less about the partying Stiles had hoped for. His only entertainment was through other people. Riling up Derek? That was a treat he lived himself.

The heavy sigh Derek emitted could be heard in the silence of the woods. "Maybe my bad boy days are over and I didn't want to run over a child."

"Should've stopped wearing leather jackets, just saying. And where the hell have you been driving around where there are children on the streets? Recruiting a pack again? Kids are a bit young though..." Stiles babbled with a smirk. 

Derek's glance towards him suggested he was walking on very flimsy, almost non-existent ice there. "I'm not even an Alpha anymore."

"And isn't that a shame..." Stiles breathed, more to himself as he remembered Derek's beefed up body from years ago. "Anyway, don't go around kidnapping kids."

"I'm gonna remember that piece of advice like I never thought about it myself before, when I might get the urge." Derek said with a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile. Or maybe he was baring his teeth, it was getting dark and Stiles was a little unsure on that front.

They traipsed through the woods, one elegantly and effortlessly light footed as ever and the other determined to alert everyone in a five mile radius of his existence. 

The Hale House was very empty and Derek said Scott's scent here was old. Probably residue blood and sweat that had seeped into the wood at some point or other. 

"Great. We're exactly where we started. What do you think how many houses Scott could be in?" Stiles said, catching in time that Derek had shrugged when he looked back at him.

"Honestly? We've looked in everyone I thought he could be in. This isn't good, we need to find him soon." Derek answered looking lost. 

Stiles squinted around in every direction from them and caught flickering lights. Damn, he needed glasses ASAP. "Hey, what's that over there?" he asked and pointed into the direction further down the trail. Leading deeper into the Preserve. 

He saw Derek frown and look where he pointed. "A house..." he replied, his tone questioning.

"Why do you sound like that?" Stiles questioned and Derek turned back to Stiles momentarily. 

"Like what?"

"Disbelieving."

"It's not supposed to be there."

"What do you mean? Maybe someone built one here."

"Stiles, there aren't supposed to be any other houses in the Preserve. And there haven't before, ours was the only one."

"Oh...We should go take a look then."

"You think?" Derek asked with a sarcastic eyebrow raised.

"I'm not the big bad Werewolf who overlooked a whole ass house right there. How is that even possible, tell me?" Stiles bit back and he watched in satisfaction how Derek's lips thinned, but no comeback made it out.

They walked over in relative silence (Stiles was just not made for long hikes in the dark) and eventually came to a halt in front of a small house, warm lights casting the grass outside in color. 

"This isn't ominous at all..." Stiles said quietly and Derek cast him a look. "I'm just saying, this doesn't look new. And it wasn't here before. I'm getting serious Nemeton vibes..."

"There is no Mountain Ash, Stiles." Derek stated matter of factly, since he's sure he would've felt that earlier. 

"No, I mean it randomly appeared too. This kinda reminds me of it," Stiles said, getting closer to it and looking inside the lit up windows. "Yeah, this is strange. It's empty."

Just as Derek wanted to get closer to look inside too, the front door opened up on it's own. "This feels like a trap. Derek, don't let us be the laboratory rats. Or bait or whatever. I don't like this."

Derek didn't respond, he stood right there, looking in through the open front door. "Derek?" Stiles asked again, but he got no reaction. Frustrated, he sucker punched him in the shoulder, which got a reaction in form of a disoriented growl. He was blinking fast and then focusing on Stiles. 

"What?" the Werewolf asked, facial expression puzzled like he just woke up. 

"Yeah, no, get away from the damn door, Derek. Something's fishy here." Stiles replied, pulling Derek to the side and away. 

"There's someone in there." the Werewolf told him.

"How do you know? Look through the window man, there's literally nothing but the lights. No furniture, no people." Stiles told him, shoving him towards the window to let him see.

"I know, but I hear a heartbeat. Someone is in there. Maybe hidden, but the heartbeat is real." Derek responded with his eyebrows drawn together. He looked a lot more like himself now. Good.

They stared at each other for a moment and then back through the window.

"I'm going in, take a look around and keep talking to you. If it's something luring in Werewolves, I won't be affected," Stiles mused. "Probably. Hopefully." he added.

"You're not going in there alone. I swear to god, if you make me tell your dad you died because of your own stupidity, I'll resurrect you just so he and I can kill you again." Derek said angrily.

"Harsh. My dad wouldn't though," Stiles smiles lopsided to annoy him. "Fine, we go together, but if you get whammied by whatever the hell this is, it's your own fault for not listening to me." he conceded.

A strong exhale and a nod from Derek later, they stood in front of the door together. "Why do I get the feeling someone's standing right there, looking at us."

"Because you're paranoid." Derek quipped.

"Oh, har har, bite me." Stiles grumbled, but couldn't really deny it. He did have some low level paranoia. Especially when he was back in Beacon Hills. He risked a glance at Derek and caught him smirking back at him. His teeth were a little longer than normal.

Stiles was about to say "screw it" and enter, already taking a step forward when they heard the voice. It was quiet at first, like a whisper, but got louder by the second. It repeated the sentences over and over.

"We will show you your hearts desire, your deepest, darkest longing. Something you hid so well will manifest." the disembodied voice said.

"That's not good, is it?" Stiles asked, realizing he was suddenly standing closer to Derek. Damn it. Stupid fight or flight reaction. Or in this case, seeking shelter from the evil voice.

"Probably not." Derek answered, looking a lot more tense than a minute ago.

They gazed at each other, holding eye contact. "So, how big are the chances Scott is in there?" Stiles asked pointing at the house with a swift gesture. 

"Pretty high, since I can smell his chemo signals." the Werewolf answered.

"You're only telling me _now?_ " Stiles asked semi-furious.

"I just caught his scent, I didn't know before." Derek said in an attempt of an excuse.

"I'm a little concerned if we go in there together and your deepest desire is to actually rip my throat out with your teeth that they'll make you do it." Stiles said out loud and then his eyes widened as he realized something. "Oh god, I said _they_ , Scott really is here."

Derek granted him a flat look. "I promise you not to rip your throat out."

"Guess that gotta be good enough for now..." Stiles replied and took hold of Derek's arm to drag him behind. It was astounding how willingly he followed. 

They walked over the threshold, the room still stayed empty and vacated. It was warm, but that's it. They were both looking around, Derek sniffing the air to catch Scott's scent probably. Stiles to find any clues.

He turned to Derek and said: "I don't feel that different...maybe it was just to frighten people away?" then when their eyes met again they had both a quiet moment of _Oh shit_ displayed on their face. 

It was too late to get out and then it really didn't matter anymore, as they cut the distance between them and their lips met in a crushing, hungry kiss. 

Stiles felt the door closing as his back was pushed against it bodily and then all he was feeling was Derek's lips, his beard and hands everywhere. It was like being devoured, taken apart and put back together all at once. 

Teeth were scraping along his jaw as they broke the kiss making his breath hitch and then Derek was nipping at his neck, sucking an angry mark into his skin and biting it playfully. "Shouldn't've said that." Derek breathed into his throat and came back to kiss his lips bruised. 

"Said what?" Stiles brought out between their kisses.

" _Bite me_." the Werewolf quoted. "Such a tease."

They were interrupted by loud murmuring around them, like a hundred people were in the room with them, talking, one louder and more familiar than the others, causing them to break apart, looking around frantic.

There was no one but them.

"Scott." Stiles reasoned, ignoring his painfully hard erection and the fact he could feel Derek's rub up against his leg.

"Right," Derek said, taking a step back and tilting his head in the way all Werewolves Stiles knew did while listening in. "He's below us."

"Seriously? In the cellar? Please let that not be an Argent trap again, I'm done with those." Stiles said immediately, still licking his lips and studiously ignoring the way Derek stared at his mouth. 

"Kate's not in Beacon Hills. Chris is hunting her up north." Derek replied absentmindedly, turning to the only door at the end of the room, that probably lead to the basement.

This time, Derek was the first through the door, which was probably a good thing, because it was pitch black downstairs. "I don't like this. I get Insidious flashbacks." Stiles whisper-shouted to Derek, who calmly walked down. 

"There's nothing there." the bastard with night vision said.

"You mean like the room upstairs with the voice and no body?" Stiles hissed back. It was strange how darkness almost forced you to keep quiet. Or quieter in Stiles case.

They were obviously not talking about the murmurs though. Might even be for the best, Stiles didn't need more fodder for his nightmares.

Derek hummed, the stairs made a turn and Stiles only knew, because he held onto the collar of Derek's leather jacket. In hindsight, he realized it was a bit like a guide dog situation. Voicing this would probably not end well.

"There's another door." Derek's voice suddenly rang through the dark and Stiles flinched slightly in surprise. 

"Jesus Christ, how many fucking doors does this house have?" Stiles complained, renewing his grip on Derek's jacket, as the Werewolf stopped and then opened a door. 

It brought light upon them and Stiles let go. 

"There were only three, calm down." Derek replied, looking over his shoulder and with a jolt, Stiles was reminded what they had done not that long ago, he broke their gaze and looked down.

"Three closed doors too many in an empty house that shouldn't exist." Stiles said, not able to keep it in.

"It's not empty, we just can't see them," Derek shrugged, causing Stiles too silently freak out about it. All by himself. "I do hear them though." he said.

"Scotty!" Stiles exclaimed as they rounded a corner at the end of the hall and showing his best friend sitting in an empty room, safe for the lonely chair and table he was at. The Alpha didn't reply, only staring at his phone lying in front of him, like it was the hardest math equation he had to figure out and he was determined to do so.

Derek roared at Scott, all wolfed out, hoping it would come through, but there wasn't a single reaction to their arrival. "Scott!"

Nothing, nada. "Oh, screw this." Stiles bit out and crossed the short distance to his best friend. He gripped his shoulders and shook him. Maybe he needed physical contact like Derek before?

Scott didn't avert his eyes from his phone and Stiles got right in the middle of his line of sight, holding his best friends face in both hands. "Scott, Scotty, look at me! Hey, it's me, Stiles. Come on, don't do this to me. Your mom would never forgive me, if we brought you back with brain damage!"

Although he never had a problem with hitting Derek awake, Scott made him hesitate. He had been human once, he was just different. 

In the end he did slap him across the face, causing Scott to wince and look up at him. His eyes were a little more alert, but his face had still a drowsy look. Similar to Derek when the front door had opened.

"Stiles?" Scott asked, his words slurred. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to safe you. We're here to get you out." he replied, gesturing to Derek, who had raised an eyebrow at Stiles first sentence.

"It's nice here. Why should I go?" Scott wanted to know, he seemed to be under some sort of spell.

"Because you're literally sitting in an empty room in a basement. You will starve or die of thirst eventually. Do you want that?" Stiles reasoned with him. It was like talking to a toddler. 

"I saw Allison," Scott sighed sadly. "She's here, but she won't come too close."

Derek gulped and shared a look with Stiles, who was equally taken aback. "Did she talk to you?" Derek asked, surprising Stiles.

"A lot," Scott provided. "She's talking now too."

"Awesome. What did she say?" Stiles wanted to know, still holding onto Scott like a life line. The guilt he felt had crushed down on him so suddenly, he thought he would collapse if he loosened his grip.

"Told me to call you, but I couldn't. My hands don't work," Scott answered, looking at Stiles with his huge brown puppy eyes. "It's not your fault."

He knew what Scott meant or rather who he was quoting, but it still made his eyes sting with tears. 

"We need to get out of here," Derek cut into their conversation. "Right now. We need to go right now."

"Why? What's going on?" Stiles asked, alarmed. Instead of answering Stiles, Derek just got between them and picked Scott up to throw him over his shoulder like he weight nothing. "Derek, what changed?"

"The house. It makes noises that it shouldn't." he explained, walking to the door.

"Like what? Like people walking in it or talking?" Stiles asked immediately.

"Like wood breaking." Derek replied shortly, he was in the hallway already and Stiles still stood next to the table. He grabbed Scott's phone, stuffed it in his pocket and looked around the dimly lit room.

"I'm still sorry, Ally." he whispered and then hightailed it out of there, holding onto Scott's hand dangling over Derek's back as soon as they reached the stairs.

The door shut behind Stiles, making him jump. "Okay, okay, you're right, we need to hurry." he agreed, his heart going a mile a minute, as he picked up his pace just when Derek started walking faster too. 

Upstairs, the room felt stiflingly warm, like a party in a frat house, minus the people or loud music. And obviously without the booze.

They crossed the floor, basement door shutting loudly and got out into the dark woods, the front door closing with a sickening finality, as Stiles set foot outside.

Stiles turned around as he heard a loud crash and the house was gone. He breathed out harshly, stumbling after Derek who still carried Scott around, the whole experience catching up with him. "Jesus Christ..."

When Derek turned around, he didn't look at the spot where the house had stood, he was directly looking at Stiles, his eyes glowing blue in the dark. "Let's go." he ordered.

Stiles could only nod and followed them to Derek's car. They positioned Scott in the backseat, strapping the seat belt on. He seemed to be able to move his limbs now on his own. Still rather slow, but it was an improvement. 

"Deaton or his mom?"

"He's not a dog and his mom is a nurse." Derek argued as he started the engine.

"What about a possible curse?" Stiles mused.

"It's not. At least I don't think so." Derek replied, gripping the steering wheel. Did he feel as cold as Stiles did?

"Fine, to his mom, but I'm still calling Deaton." Stiles compromised and Derek inclined his head conveying he approved.

While they drove to the McCall's, Stiles talked to Dr. Deaton, who first reminded Stiles again of him not being all-knowing and then immediately nixing that statement again, because he seemed to be sure what it was. 

It still confused Stiles and he seriously needed books about it as soon as possible. 

They got to Scott's house and were greeted by Melissa. "What happened this time?" she asked, all pissed-off mom mode, until she saw Scott. "Jesus, Scott!"

At least he was able to walk on his own now. If his current appearance freaked her out, Stiles didn't want to know her reaction to how Scott had looked to them in the basement.

"Easy there and uhm, we're not quite sure, but Deaton has a hunch." Stiles answered, as they watched Melissa guide her son to their couch, wrapping him up in a blanket. 

"A hunch. Which is?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Uh, so what I understood from our short phone call with him, we were in another dimension? Or they were from another dimension visiting us? Witches, ghosts, demons. Something like that. They lure their prey in, mostly creatures of the night, like Scott and Derek and well, in abundance of a better wording: drain their life force." Stiles recited what he had grasped from Deaton.

"Werewolves survive longer than humans, that's why they prey on them." Derek provided as Melissa started to quirk her brows in question. 

"Scott said he saw Allison..." Stiles told her and bit his lip. "And Deaton thinks she, her ghost, was there to protect him." his voice got thick with emotions. "And probably held them off so we could get him out."

"Sounds like her." Melissa said, carding her fingers through Scott's hair, as he napped on the couch. 

"Yeah." he agreed and looked away, clearing his throat. 

"What's that? On your neck?" she asked then, squinting at Stiles and for a second he was reminded of a beard scraping over his skin, warm and soft lips kissing and sucking on his throat, teeth biting him teasingly. 

He clasped a hand over it. "Nothing." he squeaked. Stiles could hear Derek clearing his throat.

"Do you want to stay here or should I drive you home?" Derek asked, tactically changing the subject, probably uncomfortable at Melissa's sudden interest in Stiles appearance too. 

He really should've taken the time and look in a mirror while still in the car...

"I uh, I guess Scott's in the right hands for now and Deaton did say he should be fine tomorrow. The day after, tops." Stiles said, nodding, holding both his hands in a thumbs up gesture. "So, yeah, take me home please."

Melissa McCall did eye them suspiciously, but granted, didn't say anything as they left her house. The car ride was silent, both trying to gather the courage to say something about their make-out session in the haunted traveling magic house. 

"Weird day, huh?" Stiles decided to said as they turned into his street. 

"Yes," Derek agreed shortly. "But normal for Beacon Hills standards." he added, his lips quirking up in slight amusement.

"I'm impressed no one died, got maimed or lost any amount of blood." Stiles chimed in, tapping his fingers against the denim of his pants. 

"Definitely impressed by that." Derek replied and pulled the car to a stop in the Stilinski driveway. 

Stiles mouth opened and closed in an attempt to talk about it, but in the end, he was too afraid to voice it. What if it had only been a stupid spell and Derek didn't really want Stiles like that? And what if asking about it destroyed their friendship? 

No, better not say anything. He knew how he felt about Derek, even though he hid it so deep inside him, he almost forgot about it until tonight.

"Thanks. For helping me find Scott and driving me home." Stiles said, eyes locked with Derek's in gratitude.

"Any time." Derek responded softly. There was a heavy moment passing between them and Stiles sucked in air and got out. 

"Have a nice night." he said, waving at the Werewolf and turning towards his house. He was almost home, almost inside, just a few steps.  
He heard a car door opening and close, then a hurried pace behind him.

When he turned around Derek stood right in front of him, making him stumble back in surprise. He had a déjà-vu, but this time outside a house as the intensity of Derek's eyes sucked all his breath away.

"Tell me I'm not misinterpreting this." Derek said, getting even closer and Stiles swallowed thickly.

"You're not." he confirmed. "I thought they made you do it..."

"No one did. I've wanted to. Still do." Derek replied truthfully.

"Oh. Oh, that's good. I do too." Stiles nodded slowly, eyes widening in anticipation. They were practically sharing a breath at this point.

"Good."

"Great."

Nothing happened and Stiles hands shot forward, grabbing onto Derek's jacket. "Kiss me, you dummy wolf."

When Derek finally did, Stiles found out that the outside of a front door was just as uncomfortable as the inside. But God, he loved being between a hard surface and Derek. Who was also a hard surface, a very, very hard surface as Stiles got one of his legs between Derek's. 

He was so unbelievably gay for Derek, how had he been able to just ignore that? Stiles won't ever be able to in his whole life again.

Derek moaned into his mouth at the contact, gripping Stiles hips to hold them in place. He was just grinding against him, sending sweet sparks up Stiles spine, when a police siren _whoop whoop_ 'ed, casting them in blue and red light. 

"You gotta be fucking kidding me..." Stiles grumbled into Derek's mouth, eyes still closed and hoping it would disappear if he wished for it hard enough.

The lights went out and even he heard his dad chuckle to himself from this distance. "Do I need to take you both to the station for public indecency?"

"We're both clothed." Derek said, refusing to step away, which, yeah, they were both kind of obviously turned on. His dad didn't need to see that.

"That's the argument you're going with, son?" Noah replied, still this smug amusement in his tone. Probably more to the fact he had been able to scare the crap out of them and not because they found each other.

"I'm twenty-three. Almost. I can do what I want." Stiles said, looking past Derek's shoulder at his smirking father.

"That is also not helping. Do whatever you want _inside_ the house. Not against the front door for anyone to see." Noah told him.

"I bet Mrs. Rubenstein enjoyed the show." Stiles said sighing, glad his boner went finally down.

"She did," Derek threw in, helpfully, taking a step back. "Now she's complaining about the stupid police force and their horrible timing." he continued, blinking innocently at Stiles dad.

"That is so creepy and so awesome," Stiles said awed. "Take me home with you." he demanded.

"Good idea." Noah commented with a raised eyebrow. 

"Rumor has it, that I have those sometimes." Stiles told him, poking his tongue out at his dad. "See you later, old man." he addressed to his dad, getting a hold of Derek's hand and started dragging him towards his car. "Maybe we can film a short video for Mrs. Rubenstein as apology." he said to Derek.

"No." the Werewolf answered firmly. 

"Eh, you'll come around." Stiles waved him off.

Noah sighed loudly. "I don't want to know this, Stiles and please, don't send our neighbors inappropriate videos _or_ photos of yourself and your boyfriend!"

"Spoilsport." Stiles yelled back, before sitting in the passenger seat. 

"Mrs. Rubenstein agrees," Derek sighs. "The nasty old hag."

Stiles looked at Derek as he drove backwards out of the driveway, with one arm draped over the passenger seat, looking back over his shoulder. "Take me home and then take me." Stiles swooned.

The car swerved, almost grazing the Sheriff's cruiser on the street. "Jesus, Stiles, don't cause a frigging accident."

"Do you have lube at yours?" Stiles asked instead, not even bothered in the slightest.

They didn't drive to Derek's straight away, making a pit stop at a twenty-four hours Minit Mart. Apparently he didn't have any at his apartment, go figure.

Derek grabbed some stuff for breakfast food too and joined Stiles in the car again. His ears were red from embarrassment and Stiles filed that away for later questioning. 

"I liked how dad called you my boyfriend."

"Me too."

*

Scott texted him the next day, telling Stiles he was okay again and how he had taken a stroll in the woods yesterday, only to stumble upon the house. They had lured him in and he couldn't shake them off. 

If it hadn't been for Allison forcing Scott to text Stiles or call Derek for help, he would've been taken back into their other dimension. One of witches, ghosts and demons hunting for Werewolf blood.

At least that had been what Allison had told Scott. Seeing her again had been his hearts desire.

Stiles was just really glad he was alive and well. And that Derek was awesome in the kitchen, his pancakes were mind blowing. Stiles did thank him in blowing him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading 💖


End file.
